


There Is Always A First Time

by ironwidow



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Red Room
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironwidow/pseuds/ironwidow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Natasha have had their first time doing things too. First time making love, first time fighting, first time dancing together<br/>In each chapter, you will find the first time this couple did some (and a lot more) of these things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Most Human

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter corresponds to the first time bucky and natasha kissed/made love.  
> I do not own the marvelous characters that are Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanova. Please enjoy and make sure to leave your feedback :3

It has been a long day—it started with some warm up exercises, that Natalia hates but does it anyway, knowing perfectly well that the Winter Soldier would punish her if she didn’t. She thinks they shouldn’t waste time on this, but he _insists_ she could severely injure her body if she doesn’t get ready before a fight, especially when she’s giving all she has. She figures he never realized that she _always_ holds back when they are sparring—she is way too strong, stronger than him because he made her this way, and she’s never going to show it unless it is necessary. Doesn’t want to hurt is ego, if he’s got any (she knows he’s a weapon, a tool to be used—those don’t have egos; somehow, he still manages to be the most human in this cold place).

Later, they had moved on to the actual fighting—and this was a personal favorite of hers. It is the closest they can get without people making nasty comments about how they did not know their own place, about how they should have stopped training together a long time ago, before things got personal. It’s all relative now, and neither of them knows where to stand anymore. Natalia’s judgment has always been clouded when it comes to the Soldier—she hopes it is mutual, but knows it probably isn’t. There’s a lot at stake here, and they aren’t supposed to be forming emotional connections. _Just train_.

At the end of the training, Natalia’s back is on the floor and the Soldier is standing above her, pinning her hands to the hard floor; he has won this round—it’s only fair, considering she won the two previous ones. He eyes her with curious eyes but says nothing before getting up and holding a hand out to help her, which she accepts with a warm smile. There are a lot of things he wants to tell her, like how proud he is of what she is becoming, but he knows that is hardly appropriate. Also, the Kremlin has eyes and ears everywhere.

                “We are done for today.” The Soldier breathes out in a quiet voice.

                “Am I allowed to leave?” Natalia’s voice sounds raspy and tired, exactly how she fells. And it’s not a bad thing; she appreciates the feeling, enjoys the pain she will get later when her body starts complaining from the countless times she was thrown across the room. It reminds her she is alive.

                “Yes.” In the beginning, Natalia had been uncomfortable by how little he spoke; now it doesn’t bother her anymore. She has grown to like the silence, something he also taught her during their lessons. Silence can’t hurt you, ever.  The noise just might. They don’t have much to discuss either, other than what he has got to teach her. She doesn’t know who he is, doesn’t know his name or his age. He doesn’t seem to know either. There are barely any life experiences to share, even when their life is so exciting.

The redhead prepares to leave just a second after he speaks, however she only manages to take a few steps towards the door until he calls her, her name slipping past his lips in a way she’s never quite heard before. A purr, so peaceful and warm she doesn’t want to believe it is coming from him. Still, she turns around to face him and watches him come closer to her, closing the space between them in lesser time than she would have thought possible.

The following moments are more of a blur than anything else. His metal arm tugs her body against him and he dips his head in an instant, lips latching onto hers the next second. The Winter Soldier doesn’t know why he is doing this –he hardly knows anything since she walked into his life like a _damn hurricane_ \--, knows he _shouldn’t_ because she is promised to someone else and because he’s not allowed to feel anything. She’s breaking every piece of control he’s ever had over himself though, destroying every piece of work the Russians have done on him to make him a cold-blooded assassin. Natalia makes him feel human again or something close to it, and he hadn’t quite realized until this moment just how much he needed her. When he comes back to his senses (and it takes him a full moment to do it), she is sliding her fingers through his hair and pulling, teeth and tongue invading his space and for a minute his whole body is on fire. He might not remember anything from his past, but he sure remembers this is a good feeling and that he never wants to let go again.

                “I have to go.” She is the first to break the kiss that leaves them both with heavy breaths and swollen lips. They keep themselves in each other’s arms during another minute or so, his arms around her almost protectively and hers wrapped tight around his neck. She never wants to let go, either.

Natalia abandons the old warehouse a few minutes later, a bag with some clothes and weapons over her shoulder and a jacket covering her upper body. It’s snowing outside, like it always is during the Russian winter. The wind threatens to cut her face like a sharp knife and there is a small humming noise pounding in her ears—it’s all a little too uncomfortable, but fortunately her dorms are not so far away.

_We Russians have nothing but our winter._

 

*******

 

A cold shower is the first thing in Natalia’s mind when she gets home. Alexei isn’t here, and she’s thankful for it—she was not in the mood to pretend happiness next to her fiancé, especially when she is still thinking about another man. The kiss doesn’t leave her mind no matter how hard she tries to forget it; his touch, the sound of her name on his lips, it’s all still sending shivers down her spine and while she figures said shower would help her out, it doesn’t. So when she lays down on her bed and pulls the covers over her head to keep any light out, the Winter Soldier’s mouth on hers is still all she sees, even with her eyes closed.

Eventually she gives up and forces herself to get out of bed and get herself something that will cool down the demons in her heart. At first she means to get a glass water, but alcohol is stronger and she’s sure there is a bottle of vodka hidden somewhere in the other division. Something stops her, though. A small, almost inaudible noise that comes from the window in her bedroom. Her first reaction is to reach for the knife carefully placed underneath her pillow—it’s there for moments like this, in case a threat walks in on her when they _think_ she’s sleeping.

It’s all too fast—she takes the knife and spins on the spot to attack whoever is trying to catch her by surprise, but her hands are caught in the process by two strong arms to keep her in place. There’s darkness in the room, but she doesn’t need light to know who’s in front of her, hiding in shadows; the metal closed around her wrist tells her enough.

                “Comrade, you scared me.” The knife drops from her hands and the soldier drops her wrists. She feels incredibly vulnerable this, with only a nightgown covering her petite body. Men aren’t supposed to see her like this and this particular man could get himself killed just for standing there at that time of the night.

                “I know. I’m sorry, Natalia.”

                “It’s alright.”

                “No, I mean—sorry. For earlier.” And they are going at it again. The kiss that hasn’t let her fall asleep peacefully yet. Natalia shrugs and picks the knife from the floor, resting it back where it belonged. Her head’s pounding and she needs to let go of this before it becomes too dangerous, but she’s already too attached and so is the Winter Soldier.

                “It’s alright.” She repeats, and doesn’t sound sure of herself, despite trying to.

The Soldier keeps quiet and stares at the bed, the door that leads to the bathroom, the old brown rug on the floor—tries to find something to hold on to, something that will stop him from looking at Natalia because he knows he will break down if he does this again tonight. On the other hand, Natalia doesn’t seem worried about any of it and this time, she is one to close the space between them and claim his lips as hers. Her fingers dig into the back of his neck and it hurts, but the Winter Soldier finds himself enjoying the pain she provides, just like he does when they spar. To be honest, her acceptance was all he needed as incentive—his arms snake around her waist and bring her closer  to him, if that’s even possible , teeth nipping at her lower lip in retaliation for everything she’s doing to him. Natalia lets out a quiet moan of satisfaction into his mouth and his fingers almost instantly dig into her hips, any restraints easily slipping away from him like sand.

                “You have to be quiet—the Kremlin, it—” He doesn’t want to break the kiss again nor does he wish for her to be quiet; all of a sudden he wants to hear every noise she is capable of producing, wants to discover all the different reactions he can get out of her before the night runs out. Nonetheless, he would much rather not risk their lives for simple pleasure.

                “—Has eyes and ears everywhere. I know.” The Soldier doesn’t wait any longer before taking her body and pushing her against the nearest wall—he leaves her shaking, heart about to combust in her chest. He brushes his metal arm along her shoulder, lips pressing softly against the shell of her ear, whispering soft words she can’t quite understand. She has never seen him act this way, and doesn’t know how to respond either; both of them had always managed to keep their emotions shut off, until this day. A shiver runs down her spine when he catches her too lost in thoughts and moves his mouth over the expanse of her neck, tongue drawing a small path over her skin. He doesn’t remember much about this –contact, _human flesh_ —but he does what his body tells him and Natalia is responding well to it; he will save it in his memory for as long as he can. Her smell intoxicates him, makeshim crave the softness of her skin pressed against his and although he doesn’t quite grasp the concept of longing for someone like this –physical attraction is something he hasn’t felt in years—, the Soldier still does his best to show how much she is wanted.

Natalia catches his lips with hers again when one of her hands tugs at his hair and pulls his head away from her, a confused look on his face as he wonders if she’s rejecting him before he feels her devouring him with everything she’s got, every breath she’s taking being offered to him and no one else. His fingers tighten the hold on her waist and he feels to urge to mark her body, to make her his, but if they want to have the chance to repeat moments like these, they must be careful. The Winter Soldier follows his body’s desires because he has no memories to back him up and he figures trusting himself can never be too much of a bad idea—and he is proven right when his hips involuntarily roll forward and press into her own, dragging a breathless moan out of her. He kisses her hard and raw, tastes the salt on her lips and prays to God this moment never ends. Then, in an act of affection (Natalia wants to ask him how he manages such thing, but refuses to ruin the moment) he hoists her up and slowly lays her down on the bed, blue eyes searching for any evidence that she might want to stop this—he finds none, yet decides to take confirmation.

                “Do you really want to—?” His hands are resting each side of her face, keeping him steady above her as he watches through interested eyes.

                “Do you?” Her question catches him off guard and has him thinking for a moment on what his answer is. No one ever questions him on his opinion—he never gets a chance of telling what he wants, what he _needs_ , because he is an asset; he takes orders and obeys and never, _ever_ , gets a say in the matter. Having an option is a completely new concept to him and finally, he finds himself free in her presence.

                “Yes.” Natalia hears exactly what she is expecting and so she lets her hands wander over his sides until they reach the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. She says nothing else for a second, suddenly too busy trailing her fingers over the few scars that cover his torso. He is looks wonderful like this, she thinks, so beautifully vulnerable, offering himself to her and letting her have him as she pleases. She knows enough about this man to understand that it must have taken great courage to do it and so she relishes in the bliss of the moment.

                “Then so do I.” The Winter Soldier smiles at her, and it’s so sincere the redhead thinks her heart will melt right away. He curls his hands around the pesky material covering her body and delicately removes it from her—he never thought he would be capable of such delicacy, but the woman lying underneath him deserves only the best he can be and so that is exactly what he will give her. His metal arm runs over her stomach and Natalia makes another delicious noise that has the Soldier closing his eyes and losing himself –if he has any self to lose—in her arms and her heaven-like body. His lips travel down her chest and stop right on the curve of her breasts still covered with a black bra and he lingers there, wanting to rip it off and kiss every inch of her he could reach. He doesn’t, though, and continues moving down, teeth barely scraping the skin just above her hips; Natalia slowly massages his shoulders as he moves above her and although every touch and every kiss has her smiling, she makes a noise of disapproval as he attempts to slid her panties down her legs. “Try the upper part first.”

The Soldier grins against her skin and licks her body all the way up again while Natalia realizes just how well they mold together, as if they had been made for each other. He reaches behind her back with skillful hands and quickly throws way her bra, exposing her breasts to him and he stares at her in awe, admiring just how beautiful she really is. He had imagined her naked before, that flaming red head cascading over her shoulders as he made love to her—but his imagination was not good enough. His wet tongue curls around her right nipple and sucks it slowly into his mouth, and Natalia reacts by arching her body into him; he is amazed by her and she thinks her body is going to spontaneously combust and there is no combination more perfect than this. He moves on to her other nipple and she moans again, and the Winter Soldier has to stop and regain his control to avoid losing every bit of patience and taking her in the way his body has been screaming to. The redhead tugs his head closer and kisses his mouth again, out of need and lust, one of her arms snaking around his waist and quickly trying to push his track pants out of the way—she manages it after a failed attempt and the Soldier growls into her mouth when he feels the friction created by their hips. He presses into her again and although torturous, he finds it oddly pleasurable and so he does it _again_ , until Natalia is digging her fingers into his back and threatening to create marks she can’t afford to leave.

                “Natalia…” She shivers underneath him, the way he murmurs her name sending zaps of pleasure right into her core. With a quiet sigh, she encourages his left hand to remove the last piece of clothing she has on her body and he doesn’t waste any time—the cold metal against her skin is strangely arousing and he’s noticed it too, and he tries the best he can to always touch her with it because he can’t help but to love the look of pure ecstasy on her face when he does. He removes her panties and dares to run one cold finger over her entrance and _bozhe moy_ he almost loses it all right there—Natalia lets out a whimper, hands curling around the bed sheets and she wants to cry out his name so, _so_ _badly_ … until she remembers.

                “I don’t know your name.” Her voice is broken and she barely forms coherent sentences anymore, but she recalls never hearing it before and knows it’s something she would remember for the rest of her life if she did.

                “Neither do I. I’m not— _whole_ , Natalia.” He’s honest and stops the entire moment just to look her in the eyes and make sure none of this makes her uncomfortable.

                “I can make you whole again.” It’s a promise and he smiles—he doesn’t expect her to fix him (she can’t) but she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t try. She really is the warmest thing in this cold place.

                “You are all I need to feel alive once more.” When they kiss again, it’s sweet and tender, nothing like they had done before. Her arms hold on to his as if she’s trying to keep him close, as close as she can, and she can feel the heat irradiating from their bodies, enough to make her breathless. She helps him remove his briefs and when he finally is able to feel all of her body pressed against all of him he groans and kisses her harder, his left hand holding on to her hip to keep her tight against his body. He doesn’t know why he suddenly needs this, why he is craving sexual contact when he’s never had before, but knows he likes it and will want more in the future, if Natalia wishes to offer him.  The Soldier breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against his as he takes hold of his cock and guides it into her, first the tip, and then slowly, inch by inch, the rest of it. His metal hand hitches up her right leg to wrap it around his waist and Natalia easily complies, a quiet moan of approval rolling off her lips.

                

                “Your body—it tells you what to do. Just obey.” When he doesn’t move, she figures he’s uncertain of what to do, so she speaks. The Winter Soldier listens and nods—he’s good at following orders, he can do this. He starts slow, his thrusts sending him deep inside of her and he holds on tighter to her leg when he watches Natalia throwing her head back with lips parted and pink flesh, flustered from their heat, from their touches. It’s all too much and not enough and he knows he could easily get used to this feeling, if she let him. His human arm travels along the expanse of her of her torso, makes a stop to cup her breasts –and he gets drunk with the sight of her exhaling slowly as she closes her eyes, trying to keep her restrain, soft murmurs of how she never wants this to end—and then it moves higher, draws small circles on her shoulder and finally rests beside her head, close to a few strands of her beautiful hair. The Winter Soldier leans down and presses his lips to her jaw, sweet and innocent, until Natalia rests her hands on his lower back and tugs him closer and he loses every ounce of self-control he had somehow managed to keep until this moment.

                “Natalia—open your eyes.” He gasps, voice thick with pleasure and she is maybe too fast at attending his request; she keeps her eyes glued to his, watches his face contort in pleasure and he does the same, and both of them feel like the world stopped right there and nothing else matters but them. The Soldier gives a hard thrust -experimental- and his cock twitches when her walls tighten around him; his mouth drops open and he groans, metal hand gripping her leg so tight she thinks he will leave bruises –he knows he shouldn’t, but he can barely stop himself now—and then his hips take a new pace, harder, _faster_.  Natalia’s breath starts to itch in her throat, mewls of ecstasy barely leaving her lips before he catches her mouth and kisses her, swallowing every noise and making it his own. Then he insists on taking her harder.

 _And faster_.

The redhead can barely hold herself together by now, teeth digging hard into her lower lip to keep herself quiet but she is sure she hears him whisper something like ‘ _don’t hold back_ ’ and so she doesn’t, instead pulls his head down to her shoulder and moans right into his ear, tongue licking the sensitive spot on his earlobe and one of her hands roughly tugging at his hair, just in the way he seems to like so much. The sound of skin slapping against skin pounds in her ears and she can feel the sweat forming on their skin, shallow breaths and pants on both their mouths and she thinks she can come just by listening the way he keeps hissing her name under his breath, always so hot and heavy. She would do the same if she knew his, but she doesn’t and does not waste time on it when he feels so good inside of her. The heat on her stomach begins to grow stronger and Natalia holds on tighter to him, wraps her other leg around his waist and drags him out of his trance by telling him that she’s too close to the edge—he moves his head away from her shoulder and brings his metal arm down to where they meet and slowly drags two fingers over the bundle of nerves between her legs. She moans again, louder this time, and then even louder again, and the Soldier figures he must be doing something right, so he keeps on doing it until she’s coming high and hard around his cock, senses going completely overload. Every inch of her, every reaction is only making him the Winter Soldier closer to his own edge and so it takes only a few more hard thrusts until he’s coming wet and hot inside of her, and his hips piston forward one, two, three times as he rides out his orgasm and whispers her name in between breaths.

They say nothing for a few good minutes and they simply lay there, looking into each other’s eyes and relishing in the bliss of the moment, holding hands and trying to even their breaths. Natalia is the first to break their silence when she manages to finally form a decent sentence that wouldn’t make her look like a complete fool.

                “Do you have to go?” The Soldier brushes his lips softly against hers, soft, warm fingers sliding over her cheek.

                “Yes. They can’t see us together.”

                “ _Now_ ?” With a smile, he rolls off of her and lays down on the bed, arms tugging her closer to his body so she can curl up into his chest. And she does. Her head rests against his shoulder, lips pressing warm kisses to the place where neck meets shoulder and he wraps both arms around her protectively before kissing her forehead.

                “I will stay until you fall asleep—so sleep, Natalia. You have a long day tomorrow.” She purrs happily against his chest and for the first time in a long time, she has a sincere smile on her face when she’s about to fall asleep.

                “More training?”

                “If you think you can handle me.” Natalia is almost sleeping now, she still manages to let out a few words, with a yawn in between.

                “You know that I can.”


	2. To remember enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they said "I love you".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize, first of all, for taking so long to write a second chapter (a year!) but my inspiration striked again, which means I will update much more regularly now.  
> Remember to leave comments and suggestions! :)

Natalia lets out a quiet gasp of pleasure as the Winter Soldier kisses down the front of her throat, hands curled softly around her red curls. He is still thrusting slowly into her, riding out the last moments of their orgasms before he lets his body fall limp beside her. Sex has become a regular habit between them, one neither of them intend to break unless someone finds out that Alexei’s bed is not the one Natalia has been sleeping in. The first few times they had used her bedroom, until they both agreed that it was too dangerous, with the regular visits that her fiancé often decided to pay on her; for this reason, they are now laying on the floor of the small bedroom that has been provided to the Winter Soldier.

                “Look at me.” He whispers, fingers eagerly reaching for her petite body and placing her on top of his body. His metal arm gently caresses her side, travels along her spine and touches every inch of skin he can reach before settling on her hip and dragging her closer to him. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”

Natalia smiles, and it’s the most honest she could ever manage. He means it, she is sure of it, but his words still bring a strange sensation to her stomach. This is not what she wants for herself, for _them_. Love –is that what they are sharing?—is meant to be lived without tension, without fear. Not like this. She would let go of him if she wasn’t so selfish; would tell him that they should part ways, keep training together but no more than that. But how can she, when he sets her body on fire with a single touch of his lips? No other man has ever done this to her.

                “You don’t remember the others.” She says, jokingly of course, and he understands. His lips stretch and he grins, his human hand coming up to tug on her hair and pull her down for a sweet kiss. Why is it that the sight of her always makes him feel so human?

                “I remember enough, Natalia.”

Silence hangs between them but it isn’t too uncomfortable. They are used to this, the quiet, and neither of them makes an effort to break it. This is the closest they can get to being in peace with their own demons, laying in each other’s arms.

                “Do you love me?” Natalia’s voice rings in the Soldier’s ears when he is almost asleep, arms tightly wrapped around the woman’s waist. He is unsure if she expects a real answer to such a difficult question, but her eyes don’t look as hard as they usually do; no, she is not expecting anything from him. It is a question, simple as one could be, and she needs only an answer..

                “I don’t know.” He wants her, _needs_ her because she is real and made of the same bones that he is; but the Soldier doesn’t know what to call those emotions. He is an asset, a machine and those aren’t taught to love.

Natalia doesn’t say anything back; she doesn’t have to. Expectations can destroy a person, and so she always chooses to not have any  and she truthfully doesn’t have any expectations towards this relationship, towards _him_. It was an innocent question, more out of curiosity than any other thing. Curious fingers travel along the expanse of his neck to remind him, just in case he’s forgotten: _she would never judge him_.

 

 ***********

 

Neither of them is sure how long it has been since they started their _affair_ —a month, a year, a decade? Time passes by slowly in the Red Room and it seems like they have been here forever. It’s hard to keep track of time, to notice the difference between reality and fantasy when your head has been messed with too many times.

Today they are training together like they do every day and Natalia has been winning every round. The Winter Soldier can see that she’s getting better and he loathes the woman she’s becoming; no, **_not her_**. She’s the best thing that ever happened in his life, the single ray of sunshine that comes up every morning to wake him beneath the dark clouds—that he could never loathe. But he hates the woman _he_ is making of her; a machine, just like him, trained to kill, to be ruthless— _just like him_. Nevertheless, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t have a choice, but even if he did he would not give up these moments,precious, for anything in the world. If fighting until they both have sore backs and broken bones is the only way to see each other, to spend time together, _to touch and be touched_ , then they will gladly continue for the rest of their lives.

A few more seconds and his mind starts wandering and a moment, _an opportunity_ , is all she needs to knock him out. First she catches him off guard and jabs him in the throat, and when he tumbles back, his balance now lost, she kicks his stomach and he falls to the ground, Natalia suddenly above him pining both his arms to the cold mat underneath them.

He couldn’t _be_ any more in love with her if he wanted to – red hair cascading over her face and keeping them hidden in this secret embrace, small arms holding him down with the strength of twenty men. She’s good, good enough to beat him, better than the Red Room can even begin to imagine; the Soldier can clearly picture her taking them down if she wanted to, can imagine her running away and leaving this hell of a life behind her back – knows she won’t leave because she has _him_ and he’s nowhere as strong, doesn’t have half the life that she does and if he runs, if he runs away with her, the target on his back will be on hers too.

                “Comrade, I think you’re losing your touch.” Cheeky as she is, she couldn’t miss a chance to tease him over her victory.

                “I don’t remember you saying that _last night_.” With faked annoyance, Natalia punches his shoulder and he only laughs, but makes no move to get out of her grasp. It’s dangerous to stand like this, too close, too _happy_ , but what they’ve learned in the past weeks is that some risks are worth taking. “I love you, Natalia.”

Her grin doesn’t die down when he speaks, but she understands this is a different moment. He hadn’t said those words before, not directly, not like this, even if she knew he meant them whenever he kissed her goodnight or held her hand for longer than necessary during trainings before letting her go. But they can’t afford being emotional, he knows that, she knows that, and so there’s an effort (on her end, at least) to lighten up the mood.

                “You only say that when I’m on _top_ of you, lover.”

The Winter Soldier grins, feral, seductive, and that one moment she realizes she’s _doomed_. His head jumps forward to capture her lips in a kiss and her hold on him loosens up just enough for him to grab her hands instead and roll them over so that now he’s the one standing big and proud above her body. He pulls back to grin at her and takes a moment to appreciate the way her mouth is still slightly gasping for air and how blue hues are fixated into his.

                “What about now? Still love you, Natalia Romanova. And if we were somewhere else, living a normal, peaceful life, you’d become my wife one day.”

Sentimentality doesn’t suit him and she _wonders_ if he’s saying it because he thinks she wants to hear it or because there’s still some humanity left in him, a tiny piece of emotions that the Russians haven’t been able to rip out of him. Whatever it is, it’s good and she’s moved by it more than she would like to admit.

                “And I love you, Winter Soldier.” 


	3. Let's dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Natasha dance together for the first time.

 

When Natalia Romanova meets the Winter Soldier again in the modern days, she’s become _Natasha_ and he’s started to go by Bucky again. It’s been a few good **decades** since they last saw each other, since Natasha ran away and left the Red Room behind (along with one of the few men that she has actually truly loved).

Things are a little different nowadays. She’s working on her path, has become a SHIELD agent and is trying to do the right thing. The Avengers give her a home to return to when she comes from missions; even if she tells herself doesn’t need one. No one ever asks about her past and she doesn’t talk about it, either. Needless to say, when Bucky settles down at the Avengers tower with the rest of them and she’s actually forced to face him on a daily basis, her life changes. It’s one thing to ignore your past when it’s _far away_ – it’s another thing to ignore it when it’s slapping you in the face every minute of the day.

And her past gets even harder to ignore when Agent Hill tells her she’s supposed to go on an undercover mission with Barnes. Despite her quick wit and the attempt to figure out the right excuses to prevent this mission from being assigned to the two of them – Natasha mentions Clint Barton, tells Hill that he’d be a better peer – the Black Widow still ends up sitting on a room with Bucky Barnes to form a plan.

Three days and a couple hours later, here they are; in Bucharest, dressed in the most expensive clothes they have ever seen and wore (they don’t even want to know how SHIELD got the money to pay for all of this), holding glasses of champagne and wearing fake smiles at a party that’s got music too low and voices too loud. They’re no longer Natasha and Bucky; they’re _Jennifer_ and _Mark Lane_.

            “On your six.” Natasha says casually like she’s telling Barnes his tie is slightly out of place. The Winter Soldier smiles, brushes a fingertip over her cheek and turns around to call for a waiter. On the corner of his eye, he spots a short man, old enough to father him, wearing a surely too expensive grey suit with a blue tie.

            “He looks cute.” Her brow raises and she’s still trying to get why he’s _touched_ her so randomly. This would have been normal all those years ago when she trained under his wing; now it’s not.

            “He’s been selling weapons to the Iraqi government for months now. Last SHIELD agent who crashed one of his parties got all their fingers cut off. Cute isn’t really the word I’d use to describe him.” The waiter arrives a few moments later and Bucky asks for a glass of Black Russian. “How soviet of you, Barnes.”

            “It’s not actually a soviet drink, _Natalia_.” She glares at him and a voice speaks through the earbuds carefully hidden in their ears.

            “ _Natalia_? _Your actual name’s Natalia? Watching you too is like watching a Mexican soap opera, I swear-”_

            “Stark, no one cares. You tell anyone this, I’m cutting off your tongue. My name’s **Natasha**. And today it’s _Jennifer_. Let’s try not to ruin our mission before it even started.”

            “I like Natalia better. Sounds more like you and less like the person you’re trying to be.”

            “And who’s that?”

Silence hangs between them for a moment – he doesn’t dare answer that question here, while Stark’s listening and at any time someone could listen to them (someone who _shouldn’t_ realize they’re not actually Mr. and Mrs. Lane). Last time he saw her she was younger and a little more naïve, but she hasn’t changed much apart from that; Bucky knows he knows _her_ better than anyone, knows Natasha is still Natalia except colder and more scarred. He misses her warmth, but he won’t get it here where she’s so willing to turn him down.

            < Let’s dance. > He slips into Russian naturally and while it is a terrible mistake for someone who’s undercover as an American banker, he’s a long way from caring.

            “I don’t want to dance, Barnes.” And her mistake is to think he’s asking for permission; he wraps one arm around her waist and pulls her to the dance floor, the other arm gently holding her to his chest. He fully expects her to kick where it would **really** hurt, but she doesn’t, instead lets him sway her to the sound of the song playing in the background.

            “Let’s pretend for a second that Tony’s not listening – would you have anything at all to tell me?” She ponders for a second. There’s a lot she wants to tell him, really, but Tony _is_ listening and she can’t pretend he’s not. When Bucky moves his arm from her shoulder blades to hold her hand in his, she smiles.

            “We’ve never danced before.” She says and it’s all she can think of now that won’t compromise her.

            “Then let’s make the most of our first dance.” Bucky moves with a subtlety she doesn’t think possible, but she, better than anyone, knows it’s not a good idea to judge a book by its cover. She remembers vividly the nights they spent together, how gently he could touch her when he wanted to, the way his fingertips would trace her skin – but this is different. _They_ are different. Bucky leans down and presses his forehead to hers as he moves with her, a little too lost in her touch to think about anything else. “ _Natalia_. Stop thinking. Dance with me.”

And she does. Eyes locked with his and arm around his neck, she lets him guide her and they follow the slow beat of the song, feet in perfect sync to the beating of their hearts. She doesn’t look away from him and he doesn’t look away from her – but they both know there are eyes on them, that the man they’re here for is watching her blue dress flow as they dance away their worries. The whole room could be watching, for all they knew, but they both care more about getting reacquainted with each other’s touch. Right now they feel alive.

When the song ends, the spell breaks; Natasha moves away from him and grabs from the waiter the drink that was meant for Bucky. He watches her but says nothing, understands that she always needs her space after moments of intimacy. If nothing else, that much he can still provide.

            “ _Watch out for our dude. He’s going your way_.” Tony’s voice rings in both Natasha and Bucky’s ears and they give each other a meaningful look; they’ve got it covered. When the man finally approaches them, Bucky has his hand carefully placed in Natasha’s shoulder and she’s smiling again, offering anyone who looks at her a warm feeling in their chests.

            “Good evening. Jonathan Windor, your host for the night. I do hope you’re enjoying the party?” He extends a hand and Bucky is quick to shake it with a kind smile that’s just as warm as Natasha’s.

            “Mark Lane, and this is my wife, Jennifer. The party is wonderful.” The man checks a small card he’s got in his hand (neither Natasha nor Bucky can read it, but they both suspect it’s his cheat list with all the guests occupations) and then the corners of his lips stretch into a grin that shows off his yellowed teeth.

            “Ah, of course, Mister Lane. Bankers are always welcome in my home. My counselor spoke very highly of you the other day… perhaps we can meet and discuss some business? Let’s say… tomorrow night? And by all means, bring your wife. My lovely Alicia would love to talk to someone who knows what’s it like to have a busy husband.” He’s taken the bait and the feeling of accomplishment stretches inside Natasha’s chest, but her face remains impassive. Bucky continues to pretend he’s very much interested in the man’s proposal.

            “I’d love to. Have my business card, you can call me to arrange the local of our meeting.”

When the man finally leaves them, Natasha leans back against the counter and pulls Bucky with her. She orders two more glasses for them and once hers arrives, she takes the earbud from her ear and drops it into the liquid, effectively shutting it down. She doesn’t say anything, but Bucky takes the hint and does the same with his – she wants to keep Tony Stark away from this conversation and really, who can blame her?

            “Tomorrow’s my day. The wife’s way more likely to give up information than he is.” She says, fingers drumming on the edge of the counter. Bucky nods and smiles at her, and he really means it this time.

            “I know. Be careful, Natasha.”

            “You too, James.”

And there it is, the intimacy she can’t sure with anyone else but him, the moments she can only ever share with him. After all this time, a simple _be careful_ should be easier to say than it is; but it’s not.

            < You haven’t called me James in a long time. >

            < It was never a problem before. > She says, but that’s not what she actually means.

            < Is it a problem now? > His stare doesn’t harden, but Natasha knows he’s demanding an answer.

            < It makes me remember… the past, I mean. > With a sigh, Bucky presses a gentle kiss to her cheek and brushes his fingers over her hair, craving the soft feeling of her locks touching his skin.

            < If you don’t want to remember the past, make new memories. Do you want to dance again? >

She does.

           


End file.
